


The Three Women

by spowell Count Dracula series (SPowell)



Series: Count Dracula [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cruelty, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Control, OOC, Torture, Vampires, Whipping, bood-sucking, dark!fic, dub-con, elements of master/slave, enslavement, evil!Merlin, non-con, taken dry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Count%20Dracula%20series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur falls asleep in the library. Dracula quenches his thirst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Women

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will get kinkier. You are forewarned.

Arthur awoke with a start. Or he thought he awoke...a strange mist covered the floor, and he smelled the strong scent of roses.

Sitting up, he looked around.

“Hello,” a sultry female voice said, and Arthur turned.

“Hello.” Another voice.

“Hello.” And a third.

Three women dressed in white dresses made of a filmy, almost transparent material stood just inside the doorway. Two had long, flowing red hair, and the third jet black.

“So happy to see you here,” the brunette said. Arthur could see her rosy nipples through her gown, as well as the thatch of dark hair between her legs. He blushed.

“My name is Morgana,” she said, stepping close to him and bending at the waist to peer into his eyes. “And these are my sisters, Yvette and Marcella.

“H-hello.” Arthur tried to scoot away, but his back hit the arm of the chaise.

“What’s your name?” Morgana asked, sitting down next to him, so close that their bodies touched.

“Arthur.” Arthur had to clear his throat before continuing. “Arthur Pendragon. I’m a guest of the Count’s.”

“Oooh.” Morgana put out her hand and touched Arthur’s chest, slipping inside his white shirt to stroke there.

Arthur meant to object, to say he’s taken, but the words wouldn’t come out. The woman smiled, and Arthur thought perhaps he was really dreaming when he saw the long canines in her mouth.

“You smell delicious,” Morgana leaned towards him. The other two women came forward at that, leaning down to sniff at Arthur’s hair and neck.

“A blond,” Yvette purred. “Why am I not surprised?”

Morgana trailed her tongue down the side of Arthur’s face, and he jolted, but he found that, try as he might, he could not rise off the couch.

“You taste delicious, too,” Morgana gave a deep, throaty laugh.

Arthur began to sweat. He sensed danger. If he was truly asleep, he wished he would wake up.

Marcella walked behind the chaise, bending to run her hands over his shoulders and to tweak Arthur’s nipples beneath his thin shirt. Arthur let out an unmanly squeal, and all three women trilled with laughter. As Morgana leaned down and put her mouth at the curve of Arthur’s neck and shoulder , the mist seemed to rise up to swallow them. He strained to move back, but Yvette crouched at his other side, hand moving up his inner thigh.

“Let go of him at once!” An angry male voice cut through the dense fog that settled in Arthur’s brain. Cool air swirled around him, and Arthur thought he heard shouting.

“I’ve brought you this,” the voice said, and Arthur blinked his eyes trying to see beyond the swirling white. The women cooed, and Arthur thought he saw them leading a figure out the door.

“Never touch him again!” The strong voice shouted after them, and then Arthur felt strong arms lift him up and carry him from the room.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was on cool, silk sheets with nimble fingers removing his clothes. The mist still floated before his eyes.

“Who is it?” he managed to ask.

“It is the Count. You’ve fallen ill, I think. Just lie back and rest.”

Ill? The last Arthur recalled, he’d been reading in the library. And then he’d fallen asleep. Hadn’t the Count warned him not to do that very thing?

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said weakly. “I couldn’t help myself. So tired.”

Gentle hands pushed his hair back from his face.

“Poor, noble mortal,” he thought he heard the Count say as he continued to rid Arthur of his clothes. He took a rag from a basin beside the bed and began to bathe Arthur.

“I will wash their stink off of you.”

Moments or hours passed. Arthur was naked between the slick sheets, which moved over his skin like water. A veil of mist still floated before his eyes as they flitted about the room, taking it in.

He lay on huge, mahogany four poster bed with a veil of white curtains around it. A candelabra lit with a dozen dripping candles sat on a table nearby. Two windows were open to the dark night. And the Count…the Count stood by the open windows, stark naked, his cock hard and jutting obscenely from his body. A pack of wolves began to howl in the distance, and the Count leaned out and took a deep breath of night air before turning toward the bed.

“What…what…” Arthur tried to say, but his galloping heart caught in his throat with the words.

Predatorily, the Count crawled up the bed toward Arthur.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, taking the top sheet and pulling it down to reveal Arthur’s nude body. Arthur wanted to run, he wanted to get away, but instead he raised his arms, holding them out to the Count, who smiled at him, revealing long sharp canines that Arthur was sure hadn’t been there before.

The Count covered Arthur with his body, and Arthur arched up, instinctively turning his head and offering his neck without a single thought as to why he was doing it. Dracula chuckled.

“Yes, see, you’re mine,” he said softly before lowering his head to Arthur’s neck. “I can’t wait to taste you—I want to. So much.”

The sharp sting of a bite made Arthur cry out. The mist drifted away, replaced by an odd languor and the strongest desire Arthur had ever felt. His cock hardened between his legs and his senses sharpened to a shocking degree. He could hear the wolves as though each howl was individual and distinct. The curtains fluttering in the breeze sounded amplified. And, close to Arthur’s ear, the sound of satisfied drinking coupled with low moans of pleasure further stiffened Arthur’s cock.

Arthur floated on the torturous, yet strangely titillating feeling of being consumed. The Count moved, nudging Arthur’s legs apart. Arthur gasped, but he didn’t—couldn’t—protest. Vaguely, he realised what was happening, but for some reason he didn’t care. His body was on fire with need, and he eagerly planted his feet on the bed and lifted up, welcoming the invasion. The Count thrust inside Arthur even as he continued to drink from him, and Arthur yelled out, clutching at the man’s broad shoulders. Dracula's turgid cock filled him, splitting him body and soul. His mind swirled with visions of dark forests and ethereal creatures as goose flesh broke out over his body.

“Yes, yes…” Arthur heard himself crying out as he moved his hips upward to meet the Count’s thrusts. He no longer belonged to himself, but to this man who took sustenance from him and drove him to ecstasy at the same time.

Arthur’s cock rubbed against the Count’s belly and throbbed with need, leaking pitifully.

Dracula continued to pound into Arthur, hips snapping, as Arthur’s head was pushed against the head board.

Then it was over. Count Dracula shuddered, and as he removed his fangs from Arthur’s neck, Arthur experienced the most intense orgasm he’d ever felt in his life, his body shaking with it. His eyes rolled back in his head as his cock shot copious amounts of cum onto his stomach and chest.


End file.
